iTwo days ago…/i

Bodies; they lay scattered across a silent wooden floor in the rubble of what once was a salon. Men, women, children, black, or white were all dead. Their blank expressionless faces all signifying that their senses had left them, and their souls had taken flight. Puddles of blood surrounded each respective body as they lay still in their own filth. He did not know their names, nor did he care…to him, these living beings were nothing but pawns that he could play with at any given time. His gold stare glanced over his 'work', and he let out a faint, yet calm, smile. He was satisfied, and amused at the stench of death that surrounded him. But what he was most satisfied and amused about was the fact that it wasn't just any death that surrounded him, it was death that he had caused.

He began to exit his battlegrounds, his feet grazing over the corpses of July. But as he reached the exit of the darkened saloon, he stopped for a moment and lifted his left hand to his view. His golden eyes cascaded over the hand that dealt the death, and another sinister smile stretched over his face in amusement. While staring at the hand in front of him, he kicked a few corpses away and made a path to the exit. With a simple push of his body, he opened the doors and walked out.

"Have fun?" a mysterious broke the silence of the assassin, giving him a cocky gaze. The assassin didn't acknowledge the man with a gaze, stare, or even a peak. All he did was continue staring at the hand that had the powers of god (to take life away) hypnotically.

"I don't usually waste my time on such vermin like that, but I had so much frustration in my soul," he said very calmly to his cohort, who remained slumped against the salon's outer brick wall, "He must've truly gotten on my nerves so much that my ability to hold back my emotions has vanished. It's funny really: disposing of these insects almost gave me an orgasmic pleasure. It's a good feeling to have when you know you are eliminating parasites from the world you live in. The funny thing about death: it's intoxicating"

His soft spoken words, which would usually send a chill up a man's spine, only brought a chuckle from his cohort. The cohort's figure was one of a lean young Caucasian man with soothing brown eyes and slick/neat black hair. His eyes traveled to his golden eyed cohort, as he happily eyed him staring at his left hand.

"Midvalley," he said coldly to his cohort (apparently named 'Midvalley'), "I want you to stay in this barren wasteland for me"

Midvalley cocked an eyebrow up confusion, questioning the order presented to him.

The assassin didn't need to look up, he could already sense Midvalley's questioning, and it made him chuckle, "It's going to be a quiet mission for you. Under orders of the master, I have been asked to send someone to wait here for Vash the Stampede"

He slowly lifted his head, allowing his blue hair to slowly massage past his face and expose his calm gaze towards Midvalley, "I trust you have no problems with this decision"

Midvalley only responded with a smile and a nod. He pushed himself off the wall and yanked up a certain instrument from the ground beside his feet. It was a large golden saxophone. Midvalley lifted the instrument into his arms and looked over at his companion in crime, "So what am I supposed to do while I wait?"

It was at this moment that the blue haired assassin couldn't help but chuckle at his rhetorical question. He scanned the area around him, noticing the people surrounding them in a mixture of fear and shock (bearing witness to the stench of death in the air). His golden eyes cascaded over the fearful looks on the citizens, and slowly made their way to Midvalley the Hornfreak. His voice was soft, and his expression remained calm as he replied to Midvalley…

"You can play them one last song"

***

"Aaah-teehee-Vash person is being currently hunted down by two hundred bounty hunters. But they are lost in subspace trying to find this galaxy, poor poor men"

The voice of Ed continued to inform Jet of the current status of who they would have to look out for during their search. It was about a half hour ago that Jet finally figured a way to keep Ed busy, and to keep Ein content. Giving Ed the responsibility of keeping track of whose looking for Vash the Stampede, and keeping Ein content with a full bowl of dog food, Jet could finally rest silently in the cock pit and listen to nothing but Ed's reports.

"Ed, make sure to block off any signals from hitting our ship. We don't know what kind of technology these ships have, and I don't want them tracking our radio emissions in order to find out how to get to this galaxy, okay?" Jet called out to Ed, in which Ed chimed in a response of 'No-problemo-señor-Jet'. Jet, again slumped back in yellow chair and closed his eyes.

Ein wasn't barking, Ed wasn't causing a ruckus, and for once ever since gaining the Bebop crew, he was permitted to relax in peace and quiet. Jet Black, a former police officer of the Mars Police Force, was always used to action, adventure and constant activity; but as time grew on, Jet's need for serenity began to slowly increase. He constantly questioned if being in the bounty hunter game was for him. But no matter how much he complained and wished for quiet, there was always that young part of him that refused to release the adventure in his life.

He hadn't heard from Faye or Spike in a long time, possibly even hours had passed. In the old days, Jet was always about himself and never cared for many others (other than his old time partner back in the Police Force, and his former girlfriend). And after his Police Force partner shot him in the arm (causing him to now wear a metal replacement arm) he had lost all trust in comrades. He cussed himself for worrying about comrades, but it couldn't help it. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he cared about his Bebop crew partners; whether it was the fickle Faye or the silent Spike, he worried for them as if they were his siblings. He never realized when it happened, but before he knew it, having them, Ed and Ein around the Bebop became a ritual. Hell, he would go as far as calling a family. A very dysfunctional family, but a family none the less.

"Ooh bad-man tried to hack our system," Ed chimed in.

Jet's left eye went wide in wonder.

"Who are you talking about, Ed?" questioned a curious Jet.

"Hmm, code name R.D.," Ed replied as she 'hummed' to herself as she read the print of her findings, "The code name is from a bad-bad group of bad-bad men. Looks like it's from the Red Dragon Syndicate."

Jet's eyes quickly widened in horror at the name of the Red Dragon Syndicate. He ran over to Ed and her computer. He placed a hand on Ed and shook her violently in nervousness, asking anxiously, "Ed, did they track us down?"

"No, I just cut off their transmission," she said in a stuttering tone.

Jet let out a quick sigh of relief. He whipped the sweat from his forehead, and left Ed to her business. He went back to his seat in the cockpit and awaited the calls from Spike and Faye. In his mind he wondered: Where the hell did Faye go? And what happened to Spike and the city he found? He contemplated searching for them, but voted against it and told himself.

"I'll wait another two hours, before I take any drastic measures"

***

"Shit, Shit, SHIT!" Faye's audible frustrations would only be heard by her, as she fumbled to place the radio knob back upon her radio. She was too hard headed and bored out of her skull, she knew she shouldn't have done it, but she did it anyway. As if presenting her case in front of a jury, she cried out, "What the hell did you expect of me? I'm a woman, a woman with needs, and one of those needs is that I need some sort of excitement within each hour of everyday. Jet and Spike should've known this wasn't my kind of job. I'm not some kind of spy, paid to search around a void planet! I know Jet told me not to turn the radio on to a different frequency, but I just needed SOME kind of music"

Than she cried out helplessly, "How was I supposed to know the stupid thing would break? OH NO!" she cried out in realization, as her Redtail continued to glide across the sky, "How am I supposed to get home?! I needed that thing to get coordinates from Jet, what the hell am I supposed to do now?!"

The relentless cries of a childish female filled the Redtail's cockpit. Unfortunately, the sound waves would only reach her ears and no one else. She looked helplessly at the radio, as a cold sweat took over her face. She frustratingly attempted to place the broken knob back on the radio, and it seemed all but fixed. She smiled as the knob finally stayed on. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, she happily began to turn the knob back to channel 1 when suddenly…

CRACKLE~!

The radio short-circuited.

Faye's two eyes looked helplessly into the distance, as she nervously chuckled to herself. As her eyes remained stone cold in fear, and her eyes began to twitch. The radio knob flew off once more and smacked her against her cheek. Her fear soon began to turn into anger. Her face grew bright red and her teeth began to relentlessly grind into each other. And with all the energy in her body, she began to throw a fit. Her fists and legs began to flail about in a stir, as she began cussing herself out loud.

"SHIT! This stupid piece of crap!"

***

The man with the $$60,000,000,000 on his head sat quietly in the silent salon. In most towns, salons were filled with joy and noise of the happy folks that looked to forget their problems with a bottle of whiskey. But in this case, with a wanted man at their midst, the groups of people only muttered to one another. Vash only closed his eyes, attempting to concentrate hard enough to ignore the inane gossip of the crowd around him. It wasn't like this before. He didn't know how in the world his picture got published around the world, but it did nonetheless. Now, instead of just saying "I'm not Vash the Stampede", he would now have to learn to disguise himself.

With a deep sigh, Vash lifted the bottle of alcohol up to his face and looked through the liquid within the bottle. He questioned it for a moment, as if questioning why he was even drinking this early in the morning. But than he realized he was asking a rhetorical question, because the answer was obvious.

He wanted to forget this day ever happened.

He took a long swig of his cold beer and placed the bottle down beside him. He rested his head in his open palm and looked blankly into the distance. His eyes weren't really focusing on anything in particular, just staring into nothingness. And as his head rested on his hand, he couldn't help but be engorged in the gossip around him.

"Isn't that Vash the Stampede?" questioned one.

"What the hell is that outlaw doing in a place like this?" hissed an angry on looker.

"Oh my god, we should leave," whispered a nervous voice.

It was nothing out of the usual really, but it became more frequent with the new picture hosted at every city on this planet. The incessant blabbering of John Q. Public couldn't help but find some way to burn his ears and send a pain in his heart. It wasn't right that he was being a public spectacle for something he didn't do…or something he just didn't remember. As his thoughts of the crimes infested his mind with self-asking-questions, he heard more of the gossip that surrounded him.

"Jesus, should we call the cops?" said one nervously.

"I don't feel comfortable here all of a sudden," grunted out a harsh male voice.

And than suddenly…

"So here you are," the female voice chimed in.

Vash cocked an eyebrow up for a moment, wondering if the female voice that chimed was intended for him or not. Without looking, Vash reached over to lift up his beer bottle, but somewhere along the line…his hand was misplaced. His eyes widened as he pressed his hand against something else. It wasn't the cold hard glass of his alcoholic beverage, but a soft, yet firm, object that Vash couldn't help but squeeze. He turned his head slowly and…

SMACK~!

"OW! What the hell?" Vash said in a womanly cry, as he quickly straightened his diagonally knocked sunglasses and looked to see his assassin.

And in reaction to finally realizing who stood before him, he gulped hard in fear.

"Vash, if you EVER touch me there again, I'll knock a whole lot more than your sunglasses off your head," shouted none other than a female who Vash found quite common in his life these days. A female that worked for the Bernadeli Insurance Company and a female who had the job of following Vash the Stampede wherever he went (to insure he caused no harm to other cities). Her name was Meryl Stryfe.

"I'm sorry, I was reaching for my drink," Vash said amusingly as he scratched the back of his head. But, as usually, it only evoked more anger in Meryl.

"And what's with this drinking of yours?" Meryl hissed out, "You know you get even dumber when you drink. Who knows what you might do? Blow up a few cities, get into a gun duel, or even molest a few females! Just because we have to keep tracking you down, doesn't mean we have to watch you act like a pre-pubescent jackass!"

Vash sighed in an 'I-Give-Up' manner, and looked to grab his bottle of beer. But as he reached over Meryl's shoulder, he found the alcohol beverage to be gone. He cocked an eyebrow up in confusion, but only until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He slowly turned around to look over his shoulder and saw none other than Meryl's joyous cohort for the B.I.C. (Bernadeli Insurance Company) Milly Thompson.

"Now, now, Mr. Vash," she said jokingly, in an almost school-marm voice, "You know that you shouldn't be drinking this early in the day. Why don't you settle for some nice Tea instead? It's not healthy to drink these kind of drinks anyway, I think you should kick that nasty habit in the butt right away"

"Yeah, I'll remember that," Vash said in the same manner of his sigh, as he shrugged.

But in a quick moment, almost in a second's time, he felt a strong grip around the collar of his red vest. He snapped his in front of him and was face to face, nose to nose, with Meryl. Her face was bright red in frustration as she roared out at the wanted outlaw.

"So where the hell have YOU been?" she hissed out angrily, "We were in July city one night, and suddenly you vanished the next morning. Are you trying to avoid us or something? All we're trying to do is help you, you insensitive jerk!"

Vash wanted to say his real reason for leaving them. He didn't want to get them in danger. He didn't want Meryl, Milly, or anyone else get involved in his own problems. His problems were his own and he would deal with them by himself. In his mind; one should take care of his priorities and not bother anyone else with them. But instead, he kept his usual 'idiotic' persona and just bumbled out the best thing he could.

"I guess you wouldn't believe that I had a very important business meeting?" he said with a goofy smile, closing his eyes amusingly…before he got a large downward punch to the top of his head by Meryl Stryfe.

As Meryl continued to banter Vash with questions and discipline, Milly couldn't help but notice the condition of Vash's red velvet coat. She looked at it for a moment and not only noticed the dark stains on the coat, but also the fact that his bare arm was exposed due to a ripped sleeve. As Meryl continued to banter Vash (and shake him violently), Milly tapped Vash on the shoulder and softly asked.

"Mr. Vash, what happened to that beautiful red coat of yours?"

And thus, for the next hour, Vash explained what had happened to the two females that looked for him long and hard…

***

iPresent…/i

The barren city known as July surrounded Spike, as his eyes continually gazed at the name written in blood at the top of this white monument. 'Knives' he whispered to himself again in confusion. As he stood there in silence, listening to the whistling wind pass through the empty stores and homes, he questioned what had happened to this town and what this name symbolized. In his mind, he questioned if this was some sort of doing by the bounty head he was after.

"A destroyer of two towns, and a man who blew a hole through one of the moons on this planet," Spike whispered to himself, questioning the validity of the possibility that Vash the Stampede was indeed the doer of this wrong, "What happened to all these people? Who did this? Was it this Vash? Or was it someone else?"

The questions continued to engorge his mind as his eyes couldn't help but remain fixed on the symbol written in blood. What was a 'Knives'? Did it represent some sort of gang? Spike just couldn't figure out what had happened to the city. He didn't see any corpses, but the stench of death was fresh in the air. It didn't make sense; if it was a gang job, they wouldn't have went out of there way to bury the dead, they would just leave the bodies with no souls for the insects to consume. His eyes thinned to slits in confusion, but quickly shifted to the side as he heard something in the distance. He slowly turned around to face the origin of the footsteps, and eyed the streets in front of him.

With no moments haste he slowly reached to his gun holster and pulled out his 9mm pistol and brought it to his side, grasping the handle with both hands. The bounty hunter's eyes scanned all around, attempting to find the source of this noise. Maybe it was a survivor of the attack that occurred here, or maybe it was the man who committed the attack. He didn't know, but he was sure going to give the man a welcome; even if it was with a pull of a trigger.

He looked to the left slightly, and saw nothing.

He looked to the right out of the corners of his eyes, and saw nothing.

He looked over his shoulder, and saw nothing.

But when he scanned in front of him, he finally saw the source of the noise. It was a man, dressed very professionally in a blue suit with nothing but a saxophone in his grasp. Spike, with his pistol still pointed at the ominous figure, yelled out to the man.

"Who the hell are you?" Spike said, calling out to the mysterious figure that remained leaning against the wall of the barren saloon. But the figure did not respond, he only coldly stared into Spike's eyes and looked back down at the ground. Spiegel took another step forward, making sure his pistol was aimed in between the eyes of the peculiar figure.

"I asked you a question," Spike coldly said as he kept the pistol at head level, "Who the hell are you? Did you see what happened here?"

The unknown man pushed himself off the wall and stood very still, staring blankly into the eyes of Spike Spiegel. Spike felt a sudden uneasiness about the man, but kept his cool and refused to lower his gun. But as Spike opened his mouth to call out once more, he finally got a response. The mysterious man lowered his head for a moment and grinned amusingly before verbally responding to this man.

"I'm surprised someone is still alive from this city," he said calmly, "I guess I missed one; but I'm glad I did. Now I have something to do while I wait for Vash the Stampede"

iDid he just say Vash the Stampede?/i

Spike's eyes quickly went wide at attention, and his pistol remained in its position. Whoever this man was, he was indeed the assailant of this town. The reason that death infested the air he was breathing finally made sense; it wasn't corpses that he smelled, the stench of death was coming from this man.

"You said Vash the Stampede," Spike said with an amusing and casual smile, "Are you a bounty hunter as well? Or are you just some sort of sick and twisted mass murderer of this planet?"

The assailant's eyes met Spike's again, as he chuckled at the question and responded while looking into the distance, "I'm neither, really; these people were just my bait, that's all"

"Bait? Is this some sort of way to get the big bounty head?" Spike questioned.

"You could say that. But I am not after the money, I am simply after his life," the man said calmly as he began to lift his saxophone to his mouth. As he did, Spike's finger began to graze the trigger. The man cocked an eyebrow up at Spike Spiegel and simply asked the man, "Tell me something; are you an inhabitant of this dead city?"

"I'm just a wandering traveler," Spike said in response.

"So why did you come?" the man questioned.

"Why do you care?" responded Spike.

"I like to know my victims before I eliminate them," he said coldly.

"And you think I'm going to be one of those victims?" Spike asked rhetorically (and mockingly), "Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? Let me remind you whose carrying a pistol and whose carrying a musical instrument"

Spike's finger continued to press a bit more on the trigger, preparing to blow this man's head off. Spike was never really one to endorse death, but for a man who killed an entire city; he had it coming to him. Spike, with a serious expression across his face, was not going to take chances with this man. Although his only weapon was a saxophone, something about this man didn't set well with Spike. And as he always said, follow your feelings.

"Do you think you're any threat to me?" the man asked behind a chuckle, "A word to the not so wise: Don't judge a book by its cover"

"And a word to the oblivious: Never underestimate an opponent," quickly retorted Spike as he pulled the trigger and fired free one of the bullets, aiming it directly at the murderer.

***

bChapter 4/b

(Best heard through the song "Fool's Paradise" off the Trigun soundtrack)

"In life we always travel the trials and tribulations of everyday living. But when those battles are forced into your road of life, you never want others to take the responsibility of protecting you. The man called Spike Spiegel entered his mission, never knowing the dangers that lay before him. Midvalley the Hornfreak, made dangerous through his powerful tune, is blinded by the intoxication that his master shares of death. A man with blue hair and a golden gaze has a mission against me; but with another adversary closing in, he looks to feed his need for death…onto this young bounty hunter.

In life we are told to never play the role of god and take another's life. But when your life is in danger, is that your only choice?"

Chapter 4: Decisions of Death.